


Yes, Daddy

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Top!Jimin, bottom!Yoongi, questionable gendery stuff???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6318301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which yoongi and jimin share a kink! and enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be, idk. semi serious but. oh well. @_@;

It started after that damned bet he'd lost. The one where he'd been stripped and put into a maid outfit. He was _still_ mad about it, honestly, it had been fucking embarrassing to be so fucking exposed in front of all of his friends and a bunch of strangers and he hadn't spoken to Namjoon for almost a month after. Asshole. But what had been really fucked up about it was that he hadn't so much minded the dress, as he'd minded the... Being paraded around. The dress had been fine, cheap satin, somewhat shapeless but he'd liked the lace, tickling his thighs.

He'd always liked the cuts of women's clothing, they just fit his skinny ass better. But the older he'd gotten the more self-conscious about it he'd become and now, as a grown ass man he didn't wear any of that stuff outside of his house, not his skintight ripped skinnies, not the dark pink sweater that clung tight around his waist and slipped off of one shoulder. He wore them at home, along with the other feminine pieces in his closet; he took great care not to look too feminine when he went out with his friends. He got enough harassment for looking pretty as it was.

“You're too pretty, hyung,” Jeongguk complained, leaning back into the booth they were all crowded into. “None of the rest of us are gonna get hooked up cos everyone wants _your_ bony ass.”

“Look, I can go home,” Yoongi replied, eyebrow arched imperiously. “And leave you fuckers with my bar tab, or you can go find some balls and just hook up with Taehyung, Jeon Jeongguk, who do you think you're fooling?”

Jeongguk flushed and Taehyung grinned wickedly, draping an arm around his shoulders. “How do you know he hasn't, hyung?”

“You're disgusting,” Namjoon complained. “Just go fuck somewhere else, okay? I don't need you two crawling all over one another in public, it's as bad as when Yoongi-hyung wore that goddamned dress.”

“You all _stripped me_ and put me in that dress, Kim Namjoon, don't act like it isn't one hundred percent your fault it happened in the first place,” Yoongi sniffed. Jimin grinned.

“I liked the dress, hyung,” he said. “Showed off your legs~”

“Yeah, his skinny chicken legs and basketball sized knees,” Hoseok laughed, and Yoongi kicked him under the table.

“You shut the fuck up, Jung, or you're next to get shoved into a dress.”

“Why, you got one in your backpack?” he asked, and Yoongi sneered, taking another sip of his drink. Their half-drunken shenanigans continued until Seokjin started to fall asleep on Namjoon's shoulder like he always did when he'd had two drinks or more, and slowly they dispersed, mostly in cabs, for safety's sake. Yoongi got up to head home, he only lived a short walk from the bar and he wasn't so drunk he needed a cab to get there in one piece.

“I'll come with you hyung!” Jimin announced. “You shouldn't walk by yourself.”

“It's five blocks,” Yoongi replied, and Jimin smiled.

“I'll walk you!”

“Aish, this kid.”

He didn't stop Jimin from walking with him. Didn't stop him from lacing their fingers together as he talked about nothing in particular and walked in step with Yoongi until they reached the apartment building. The tension between them was as heavy as it always was, when the two of them were alone. Yoongi was breathless with the press of it.

“My stop,” Yoongi said, and Jimin nodded, the two of them standing in the foyer of the building.

“I know,” he said, and Yoongi gasped out in surprise when Jimin—Park Jimin, who was a little tipsy and broad and stronger than he was—pinned him up against the wall and pressed him there. His heart was going so fast it almost hurt. “I know, hyung,” Jimin said, and Yoongi felt him press a little closer. “I just want you to know. I like the dress.”

“Wh—”

“I like you, and I _really_ like you in a dress,” Jimin whispered, and Yoongi trembled with uncontrollably aroused helplessness. Jimin's thigh nudged up between his legs. “You looked gorgeous in it, god, your _legs._ ” Jimin looked down and rolled his hips and Yoongi fisted both hands into his shirt. “I'd fuck you in a skirt, hyung.”

“What,” Yoongi asked, unable to find the breath to say anything else as Jimin kissed his neck and ran his hands down his waist, back up under his shirt. His fingertips were cold and his palms were hot.

“I'd fuck you in a skirt,” he repeated. “Fuck you so hard, baby, you'd like it, right? I know you like it like that.”

“L. Like what,” Yoongi asked, and Jimin grinned into his neck.

“Taking it like a good baby girl for me.”

“Sh-shit, Jimin—” It wasn't a secret that Yoongi and Jimin fucked around occasionally. It wasn't a secret but somehow this felt more filthy, more _vulgar_ than any of their trysts before. This was Jimin, Jimin who liked Yoongi in a skirt, pinning Yoongi to the brick with a leg pressed up against his groin and calling him _baby girl._ This was Yoongi, so turned on his back muscles wouldn't stop shuddering, his fingers tightening and loosening and tightening in Jimin's shirt. This was Yoongi, who had never been so aroused and unnerved in his entire life. Shit. _Shit._

“Next time,” Jimin murmured. “Next time I come over, you get everything ready and I'll fuck you unconscious, I promise,” he said. “Tape that pretty little cunt up and I'll fuck you so hard you scream.”

“Jimin—”

“I'll make you call me Daddy, hyung.”

Yoongi jerked his hips up Jimin's leg and stared at him in wide-eyed alarm and arousal. Jimin just grinned and reached a hand to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of Yoongi's jeans.

“Come upstairs,” Yoongi panted.

~

 _Next time_ turned out to be almost a month later. A month too long for Yoongi, who had spent more time in cold showers in the last four weeks than he had in the previous year. It freaked him out, how much it turned him on: the idea of wearing girls clothes, taping his groin like he'd seen in xtube videos and letting Jimin fuck him into oblivion. It was kind of scary. But the idea of it was so good, and Jimin usually topped anyway, so it wasn't like their roles would be _completely_ reversed. It was just that Yoongi was used to being the one in control of the situation, and the idea of Jimin taking away that control was... Mm.

He shivered, looked at himself one more time. Jimin had texted him— _day off tomorrow, be over tonight? safeword is yellow. make sure to be a good girl for me~ —_ and he'd started to get ready out of sheer excitement. He'd never done _anything_ like this before. They'd done some light BDSM stuff, sure—some face-slapping, spanking, orgasm denial and handcuffs (god he did love the handcuffs,) but this...

The hem of the skirt barely came down to his mid-thigh. It showed off the lace tops of his thigh-highs, the white of his garters. He'd gone for pink and white, that was girl-ish, right? And if he'd put a little gloss on the center of his lip and a little shimmer in the corner of his eyes Jimin wouldn't say anything bad about it.

He was antsy, walking about and trying to get used to the feeling of air against the lace of his underclothes, the drag of the fabric across his nipples, the tickle of the dangling navel piercing. He'd gotten that done on a dare, and usually just kept a gold barbel through it but now there was a charm, pink and silver and pretty. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to let himself fall into this. Maybe he was taking this too far. But the doorbell rang and a shiver ran up his spine and he walked to the door, fixing the straps of the pretty dress and looking through the peephole before pulling the door open, careful to stay behind it.

Jimin came in wearing his suit from work. He worked at an accounting firm, a very responsible job (unlike Yoongi, who wrote for internet publications and did photography most of the time) and Yoongi felt his belly tighten at the contrast in what they were wearing. He felt naked as Jimin turned to look at him, felt exposed as he smiled, stepping out of his shoes and bending to kiss his lips.

“Hey baby,” he said, and Yoongi swallowed. “You look gorgeous.” His fingers traced Yoongi's flushed cheeks and his thumb brushed gently over his mouth until Yoongi opened his lips and Jimin's thumb slipped in, rubbing on his tongue. “I wasn't expecting you to be quite so... Enthusiastic. I like it.”

Yoongi made a soft sound, gasping in surprise when Jimin backed him into the wall and pinned him there like had a month before only now, he was standing between Yoongi's legs and dragging him up the wall. “Around my waist,” he said, and Yoongi closed his legs around Jimin's hips, looked down at him as the younger man pulled his hand away and ran it down Yoongi's throat and chest. “You went all out, didn't you baby,” he asked, and Yoongi flushed harder.

“Yeah,” he breathed, almost unable to make a full sentence with his trapped cock pressed into Jimin's firm belly. He yelped when Jimin's hand clapped hard against the underside of his thigh with a loud _smack_.

“What?” Jimin asked, his other hand gripping Yoongi's ribs.

“Y... Yes,” Yoongi replied.

“Yes who, baby.”

“Y. Yes...” Yoongi swallowed hard, bit into his lip and moaned gently when Jimin kissed at his neck, pressed him harder against the wall.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Jimin whispered, and Yoongi... Yoongi felt himself starting to fall into this. This fantasy where he was helpless and small and desperately needed Jimin, though not all of that was fantasy. Shit.

“Yes Daddy.”

Jimin groaned into Yoongi's neck and dragged him down the wall, rolled him up a bit to be able to settle his cock against Yoongi's skirt and his skinny ass beneath it. Yoongi whimpered and Jimin bit into his throat, not quite hard enough to bruise. “Come on, babygirl,” Jimin said, and Yoongi leaned forward to cling on as Jimin moved away from the wall. “Lets go sit down.”

A part of Yoongi knew he should hate this. A part of him knew that this was fucked up, and against societal standards, and wrong, and, and all other various adjectives to describe how awful he should think it was, giving up all control over himself like this, dressing like this, _being_ like this. He'd thought a lot about it, what others would think if they knew. But they didn't know, wouldn't know. Jimin would never tell, he'd never told about anything else, and neither would Yoongi.

He felt his tension dissipate as Jimin sat on the couch and let Yoongi perch in his lap, giving him the option to run if he wanted to. If he changed his mind. Distantly, Yoongi appreciated it but he was infinitely more focused on spreading his legs and rubbing down against Jimin's groin, where the bulge in his slacks was already starting to strain. “Mm, baby,” Jimin sighed, tipped his head back and let his hands grip Yoongi's waist, helping him to move in a swaying up-and-down, pushing his hips up and spreading his own thighs, wrenching Yoongi's further apart.

“Ah,” Yoongi groaned, bracing his hands on Jimin's clothed chest and moving as he was directed, kind of... Enjoying not having to determine what do do next. It was nice. Jimin was warm and firm beneath him, and he could feel the heat of Jimin's groin through his slacks and the lace that Yoongi wore. “Aah, mm...”

“Feels good?” Jimin asked and Yoongi nodded, not trusting his voice. Jimin smirked, let his hands smooth down and back up, under the short skirt to cup Yoongi's ass and squeeze. “Fuck, you look amazing. Knew you would, god.” He leaned forward and kissed at Yoongi's neck, laughing when it made his rhythm stutter. “Love it, don't you Yoongiyah, your pretty dress,” his lips moved to Yoongi's shoulder, then to his chest. “Pretty baby sitting in Daddy's lap.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Yoongi jerked forward and Jimin caught him before his face could land in the back of the couch, laughing into his chest. “Fuck, shit, go— _god—_ ” Jimin's hand left a bright red mark on the curve of Yoongi's backside and thigh, his other hand holding the shirt in a fist at one hip. The tugging lace against his chest and groin was unbearable, the softness of Jimin's hands as they moved to cup his ass and rock him against his torso like he had every intention of getting Yoongi off there, up on his knees, cock pressed to Jimin's chest through a layer of silk and lace. The sick part was he would get off, too. He really, really would.

“There's my good baby,” Jimin murmured, and Yoongi felt Jimin's fingers rub against the plug he was wearing. He always wore a plug when Jimin told him he was coming over, it just saved them the hassle of prep when all they wanted to do was fuck immediately. It vibrated, held in all the lube Yoongi had carefully squirted into himself earlier. “Lemme get this out of you, mm?”

“Please,” Yoongi panted, arms bracketing Jimin's head, trying so hard not to buck against his chest as he pulled at the plug, let it sink back in, pulled at it. “ _Please._ ”

“Please what, baby,” Jimin asked, and Yoongi felt a hot rush of embarrassment. Not shame, just... Embarrassment. He was _such_ a slut. Fuck. And apparently it was made worse when he wore dresses and lace and called Jimin—

“Daddy, Daddy please,” he whispered, his lisp pronounced as he hid his face in Jimin's hair, burning with the feeling of being very foolish. “Please take it out, please.”

“What do you want instead?” he asked, and Yoongi whined, tightened his arms. Jimin's teeth caught around a nipple. “Tell me what you want, Yoongiyah.” The older man hissed and swallowed hard. “Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

“I w... I want your cock, want you to fuck me, you know that, god, why are you being like this—” Yoongi yelped at the hard smack against his backside, pushing his hips forward. Jimin pulled aside the lace of his panties and hooked his finger in the ring of the plug to tug teasingly at it.

“Get my pants open. Now.”

Yoongi scrambled to do just that—fingers fumbling with the zipper, yanking down the cloth and the boxers beneath it, groaning at the sight of Jimin's erection. He wasn't long but he was _thick,_ and that was Yoongi's weakness. The first time they'd had sex he'd cum the second Jimin had sunk balls-deep and had nearly died of embarrassment but it happened every once in a while and... Well. It happened.

“There's my good girl,” Jimin murmured and Yoongi bristled, but the mouth on his neck made the protest fly right out of his mind. He'd been all right with it so far, why would it change now? “Good girl. Now.” Jimin's fingers pulled at the ring and positioned Yoongi, the other hand holding his cock steady. “Climb on.”

“Gonna take me on a fun ride?” Yoongi asked, desperate to regain some control over the situation, desperate not to feel helpless and wanton and needy. Fuck. Fuck, he was buying into this way too much, but Jimin smiled up at him and brought him down, pulling the plug out to replace it with his dick and suddenly it didn't seem like such a big deal.

“Yeah, I am,” Jimin replied, hands on Yoongi's waist to pull him down, down, _down._ Yoongi made a very undignified and very un-masculine noise when he was seated, panting, so hard it hurt. Jimin was no better, face buried into Yoongi's neck, groaning. “Ah, shit. So good. So good, Yoongiyah.”

“Ji—fuck, _Daddy._ ”

“Yes, baby,” Jimin said, and Yoongi felt like he'd utterly lost whatever battle he'd been trying to fight. Jimin's hands pulled the dress up over his head, exposed the piece of lingerie that tugged on his nipples, the dangling belly piercing, the softness of his skin. Jimin's lips found a soft place on his chest and attacked, licked and bit through the lace as Yoongi struggled to hold still, hands on the back of the couch. “Ride me,” Jimin murmured, fingers pulling at the straps of the teddy to pull it down Yoongi's skinny body. “Ride me like the slut you are.”

Oh.

Yoongi closed his eyes and lifted himself up. Sank back down, felt his cock twitching in the lace. Lifted up, felt Jimin smack his ass, sank back down, the soft rub a tongue on his exposed nipple. _That's so good for me baby,_ he heard, distantly, like it was on the other side of a door. _Such a good girl, you're my good girl. Tell Daddy how much you want him, talk to me, baby._

“I want it,” Yoongi whimpered, hands on Jimin's shoulders as he lifted himself up and down, rolled his hips in tight circles, the way he knew Jimin liked, knew _he_ liked. Filthy talk Yoongi could do, loved to do, just now... Now it was a little lighter, a little less demanding, a little more _desperate._ “Feels, your cock feels so good, so good in me, Daddy I'm gonna cum,” the tightening of his groin was alarming. Jimin's hand slapped softly over where his dick was caught in the lace, pressed down to his body like he was tucked tight. “Daddy—Daddy harder, do it harder, please, I'm gonna cum, _please._ ”

Jimin's hand came down hard and Yoongi shouted, snapping his legs open and pushing his hips forward, coming in the lace and squeezing down around Jimin's girth, still bouncing as much as he could because Jimin was panting into his neck, biting at his throat, nails digging into Yoongi's soft lower back.

“Fuck, Yoongiyah, baby, baby baby _god—_ ” He yanked Yoongi up and reached to jerk himself, coming against the soft skin of his ass before dragging him to sink back down, a deep groan scratching the back of his throat. Yoongi trembled in his lap, reached down between his legs to rub at the mound of his groin, feeling the cum at the tip of his dick leaning down the lace onto Jimin's belly. He felt like a girl. He felt like a girl, wet and smooth between the legs and fuck, he was terrified, he was terrified of how good it was, how safe he felt, but Jimin kissed his throat and pulled him in.

“There's my good girl,” he murmured, and Yoongi shook so hard he could hear his muscles vibrating.

~

If Yoongi had been the type, he would have gone out and fucked a bunch of people just to make sure that he wasn't just doing this because he wanted it from everyone. But he wasn't the type to do that, so he settled for examining his feelings uncomfortably closely as he sat in his living room and glared at his phone.

 _Coming over tonight? Let me know,_ read Jimin's text from half an hour ago, as though thoughts of him had summoned his presence. Yoongi had spent the last two weeks vehemently ignoring what had happened that evening—ignoring how Jimin had bathed him, kissed his face and hands, had tucked him into bed like he was some kind of child before crawling in to sleep with him. Ignored how awkward the morning after had been for him, ignored how he felt when they saw one another when their friends hung out. He ignored his own fear and feelings because he didn't want to think about it, but Jimin was coming over tonight ( _sure,_ his response text read) and he just wanted to get his thinking out of the way.

He liked Jimin. He liked Jimin a lot, even. He liked sex with Jimin. He liked putting on cute lingerie and thigh-highs and calling Jimin _Daddy._

 _I'm so fucked up,_ he thought to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck and remembering how Jimin had pinned him against the brick of the foyer, _I'll make you call me Daddy, hyung,_ and how hard he'd been, grinding down on Jimin's leg and the tips of his fingers until Jimin pushed away, grinning. _Next time,_ he'd said. _Tape that pretty little cunt up and I'll fuck you so hard you scream._

He'd bought tape. Thank god for the internet, he'd bought tape, looked up instructions, and as he got up to go to the bathroom he wondered if he was really, really ready for this.

 _Safeword is red,_ his second response text read.

 _Okay,_ Jimin had replied.

~

The tape didn't pull.

That had been his biggest concern, but he'd followed the instructions and it didn't pull. His shaft nestled against his ballsac, his uncut tip peeking out like a clit at the bottom of the swell. He'd been kind of impressed with himself if he was honest—he looked very much like he didn't have a dick at all, which was the point. His panties—soft cotton with a tiny pink bow this time—were comfortable, as was the slip dress he was wearing. It hung low on his chest, since it was meant for someone with breasts (his nipples were visible when he moved too quickly) but other than that Yoongi just looked like himself, the plug in his ass comfortable as it always was, buzzing away. He laid out on the couch and wiggled, impatient for when Jimin arrived.

He came from his gym, so when he arrived his hair was still wet and he was wearing a clean set of jeans and a t-shirt, a delicate frown on his brow as he walked into the apartment. “Hyung? Red.”

“What's wrong,” Yoongi asked, sitting on up the couch. He turned to cross his arms over it, looked at Jimin in concern. Using the safeword immediately? That was kind of strange.

“I just,” Jimin started, looking awkward as he walked over. “I just wanted to make sure you're really okay with this? You've been avoiding me.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and meant it. “It just... I had to think about some stuff. It's weird, Jiminie, I just wanted to make sure I was... That I wasn't just being a huge slut.”

“You are a huge slut,” Jimin said, and Yoongi reached out to punch his arm, pulling an unamused face.

“Shut up, I'm being serious. But I...” he trailed off, pursed his lips. “I'm okay, Jimin. I promise.”

“Okay,” Jimin nodded, bending down to be able to look Yoongi in the face. Yoongi felt his nerves sparkle at the way his eyes darkened, the curve of his smile guileless and absolutely wicked. “Red?”

“Red,” Yoongi replied, and Jimin's hand reached out to cup Yoongi's jaw, to smooth his thumb over those soft pink lips.

“You look so good,” Jimin murmured, and Yoongi flushed under the praise. The dress showed off too much of his chest and his thigh-highs had little white bows at the top; he'd forgone a garter belt. Jimin moved away to sit on the couch, motioning for Yoongi to come over and sit across his lap, which he did. He climbed up into Jimins lap and sat across it, wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss his throat and ear and shivered when Jimin's fingers traced up his thighs, dangerously close to his taped genitalia.

“Ah,” he breathed, opening his legs, one draping over Jimin's knees to hang from the couch. Jimin smirked and Yoongi jumped when his hand slid between his legs to cup and knead at his groin, very nervous about what Jimin had to say about—about— _god_ it felt good—

“There's my pretty girl,” Jimin murmured and Yoongi whined, fucking _whined,_ high in the back of his throat as he pushed his hips up into the contact and moaned into Jimin's throat and hair. Jimin's fingers rubbed over the panties, tucked down between his legs to feel where Yoongi's foreskin, the wet pink tip of his cock was barely exposed, pressing his fingers there and rubbing softly like he'd tease a girls clitoris. Yoongi jerked his hips up and Jimin grinned, turning his head to bite into Yoongi's neck with enough force to bruise. “ _God,_ I am going to fuck you so hard.”

“Please,” Yoongi breathed, rocking his hips up into the touch. “Please D—daddy, please?” He phrased it as a question and Jimin pushed him up, guiding him to be standing in front of him, between his open legs.

“Hold your skirt for me, baby,” he murmured, and Yoongi reached to grab the hem of the dress, holding it up and making a strangled noise when Jimin's head disappeared beneath it, his hands cupping Yoongi's ass and pulling him forward. His lips and tongue traced over the soft cotton, his fingers kneading into Yoongi's skin and god, god it felt so good, and Yoongi felt wetness leaking down onto the cotton, embarrassed and so fucking turned on it hurt.

Part of the reason this worked was because Yoongi didn't have to be fully hard to come. No idea why, but he didn't have to be, never had, and with his groin tucked down and Jimin's mouth assaulting the skin beneath the cloth he was grateful. The illusion was more real this way, and Jimin's fingers could rub up against where he was getting those panties wet and it didn't matter.

“Nn,” Jimin pulled away and grinned, turning Yoongi around and pushing at his back. Yoongi pitched forward, hands landing on the coffee table and Jimin pulled the panties down around the curve of his ass in one swift tug. “Such a gorgeous ass,” Jimin praised, leaning in to lick around the ring of the plug, tugging at it with one finger. “You like it when I fuck your ass, baby?”

“Yes,” Yoongi panted, face turned into his own elbow. “ _Yes._ ” Jimin was tugging at the plug, replacing it with his fingers and Yoongi could feel the lube seeping out, wetting his skin, making everything a slick, hot mess.

“So wet for me babygirl, god.” Yoongi could hear Jimin fumbling with his zipper, could hear him rearranging himself on the couch as he pulled his legs free of the denim. “Get on your knees for me,” he purred and Yoongi did just that; settled on the floor, chest to the coffee table, nipples against the cold wood hard and belly tight. “So good, baby, you're so good.”

“Please,” Yoongi found the breath to choke it out, fingernails digging into the wood. “Please, please please I need, I need—”

“What do you need, baby,” Jimin asked, slipping his fingers out and getting down between Yoongi's body and the couch, the tip of his cock dragging over his older lover's ass to press at the soft, raw skin. “Tell Daddy what you need.” He waited, tip against him, and he didn't move until Yoongi whined, reaching back to hold his cheeks open, hiking himself up onto the table. He was still wearing his panties, and the wet spot between the legs was just getting worse. He got up on the table, spread his legs and bent his back all the way down, an elegant slope from hips to shoulders.

“Please,” he whispered, and Jimin jerked up, gripped his hips under the fabric of the skirt. “Please fuck me.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Jimin almost snarled, pushing in slow and thick, burying himself until his balls were resting against the soft skin between Yoongi's legs. “Fuck yes. Shit.”

“ohfuck,” Yoongi whispered, pressing his face into his upper arm and biting into his bicep. Jimin's sac was resting against his panties, where his... Against where his tip peeked out from under the tape, red and slick with precum and _god_ it was too fucking much, too much, and he groaned when Jimin pulled back to thrust, feeling the _smack_ of skin to skin. It made his entire body jerk forward, and it was only Jimin's hands on his hips that kept him from collapsing to the table, grinding down against it.

“Yoongiyah,” Jimin breathed, his body moving in a hard and steady rhythm, his hands tight on Yoongi's skinny hips as he fucked him. Yoongi was breathless, eyes closed, mouth on his bicep as he reached down between his legs to cup and squeeze, gasping when Jimin thrust hard and slapped against him. “Nn, baby. So good for me, so fucking good.”

“Please,” Yoongi couldn't think. Everything had narrowed down to Jimin's nails in his skin, the drive of his hips in thrusts so deep it left him breathless. It was perfect, Jimin was perfect, taking care of Yoongi in ways he hadn't known he'd wanted to be taken care of. “Please, please Ji—ah—!” Jimin stopped moving, pulled back to the tip, pulling it out, sinking it in. “No—”

“What do you call me, baby,” Jimin asked, sinking in a little deeper, pulling back. “What do you call me when I fuck you so good, mm? You want my dick back in you, right?” Jimin's thumb rubbed over the wet, somewhat swollen skin. “Look at this, fuck. You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you. Aren't you, pretty girl.”

Yoongi whimpered and nodded, because what else was there to do? It was true. All of it was true and here he was on his knees in a skirt and thigh highs with Jimin's tip teasing him and his breath caught somewhere in the middle of his lungs. “Yes,” he panted, and Jimin's arm jerked around his hips and the second went around his chest. He gasped in surprise, groaned as he sank back onto Jimin's cock and his throat was caught in one strong hand. “ _Yes._ ”

“That's my girl,” Jimin murmured, kissing Yoongi's ear and reaching down between his legs to slap softly, to rub his fingers against the mess of his panties. “My beautiful baby girl. All mine.”

“Yes Daddy,” Yoongi breathed, reaching back to attempt clinging on to Jimin when he started to thrust and god, god everything was fucking bursting into electric shivers, Jimin's hand slapped against his groin and his cock drove in hard and Yoongi was coming, head thrown back and panties a wet mess, eyes slipping closed in something like defeat.

He'd lost the battle for his dignity in a lot of ways, he supposed, but. It was hard to regret when Jimin was pulling out to cum on his ass and push back in until he was half-soft. It was hard to regret when Jimin was pulling him down and into his lap, kissing at his face and running hands through his hair, _hyung are you okay, god that was, are you okay?_

“Th... That was.” Yoongi shivered violently. “Shit, I.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don't. Don't fuckin' think I've ever cum so fuckin' hard in my _life,_ ” Yoongi said, voice brash and raspy and Jimin laughed, the sound bright and high as a crystal bell. “Shit. _Shit,_ that was fucking _amazing._ ”

“You really did tape down, hyung,” Jimin said, reaching down to feel and laughing when Yoongi swatted his hand with something dangerously close to a whine. “I didn't think you would.”

“Wanted to try it,” he admitted. “Took some tutorials, some... Trial and error. It ain't pretty.”

“I don't care,” Jimin replied, kissing his neck, humming when Yoongi sighed and tipped his head back. “You're so fucking hot hyung, so fucking gorgeous. No matter what, I fucking love it. Love doing this with you.”

“Fucking me?” Yoongi asked, starting to feel drowsy as he turned to tuck his head into Jimin's hair. Jimin snorted and lifted him carefully. “Course you do. I love it.”

“Love it too,” Jimin whispered, and Yoongi drifted off as he was carried to the bedroom, presumably to be stripped and laid down into bed. He felt Jimin's hands linger on the pink panties, felt the reverence in the pull of his thigh-highs to expose his skinny, hairless legs. Jimin was treating this like a ritual and Yoongi was okay with that.

“Jiminah,” he complained, when he'd been alone in the bed for too long. “Come back. Hyung misses you.” Jimin's laughter echoed through the bedroom as he came back in, smelling like toothpaste and dry shampoo.

“Does he,” he pondered, sliding into bed beside Yoongi, kissing his cheek and laughing at his squawked protests that of _course_ he did, why would he _lie_ about it?!

“Shut up,” Yoongi mumbled, burying his face into Jimin's warm shoulder.

“Can we talk about this in the morning? Like... Properly?” Jimin asked, and Yoongi hesitated, nodded and put his hand on Jimin's chest to feel his heartbeat. Smirked like the devil himself and licked at his lover's neck.

“Yes, Daddy~”

“Yah!!”

Jimin's face was bright red. Yoongi couldn't stop laughing.

 


End file.
